


She'll Be The One

by DreamsLea



Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Being Lost, Drinking to Cope, Europe, Exes, F/M, Fanfiction, Friendship, Happy, Inspired by a Shawn Mendes Song, Love, Mistakes, Music, Relationship(s), Secrets, Touring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsLea/pseuds/DreamsLea
Summary: In the spin of fame and success, he lost his way and got stuck in a vicious circle. He was no longer the picture-perfect golden boy of the music industry who had his life figured out and career flourishing. Now he was the perfect warning example.After meeting you, which will be harder; living with the chaos inside his head or trying to hide it from you?
Relationships: Shawn Mendes/You
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So here we have the beginning of this story! A short prologue before the actual journey begins. Hope you enjoy!

The silence in the room was painful. No one rose their eyes from their plates, solely focused on loading food into their mouths, so they'd had an excuse not to start the conversation.

The only sounds hearable were tableware clinking together and a muffled thump of a glass being placed on the tablecloth. And what added to the agony was how the men surrounding the round breakfast table usually had to fight for a word in edgewise.

''Well isn't this just nice,'' Zubin said sincerely, looking up at everyone. ''We haven't hung out in a while.''

The mom of the friend group. He made sure everyone had everything packed when they left for tour and that nothing got forgotten in hotel rooms. He made sure they were always on time, whether it was for their flights or getting on stage. He was the one to settle the fights over whose turn it was to play the Xbox in the tour bus or if 'irregardless' was an actual word while playing Scrabble.

So, him starting the conversation was a surprise to no one. But unfortunately, this battle was even out of his hands.

''Yeah, wonder why...'' Brian mumbled behind his glass, taking a sip while keeping his eyes glued on Shawn, seated across from him. 

''What was that?'' Shawn hissed, letting his fork hit the plate.

''Nothing.''

Mike and Geoff warily exchanged looks as did Dave, Zubin, and Andrew. Usually, someone would throw an annoyed commend at the childish quarrelling, but the situation at hand was too flammable. Nobody wanted to be the fateful match that'd ignite the blaze. 

The tension and hatred between Shawn and Brian were palpable. Both of their bodies were tensed up, and grips on their forks firm. With risen shoulders they trailed them around the plates, occasionally scraping a bit too hard, earning a cringe from the rest. 

Growing tired of his friend's face, Shawn picked up his glass of orange juice and looked it down with disgust. At the moment, after everything, something as puny as pulp on his juice was enough to cause a strong reaction of irritation in him.

After a while of twirling the beverage around the glass, he took a big sip, followed by coughs of revulsion. 

''Sure it's only juice there, _buddy_?'' Brian asked, raising one eyebrow.

Silently having been praying to avoid conflict as such, everyone shot their glances up at Brian, as alarms went off in each of their heads.

''What the hell is your problem?'' Shawn spat, his hand already forming a fist on the table. 

By the second, it became harder for Shawn to hold back the built-up that had been building up inside of him. It was just waiting to be unleashed as his knuckles grew paler.

'' _My_ problem?'' Brian snorted. ''You're really not the person in the best position to ask that, aren't you now?''

The chair tipped over behind Shawn as he shot up, setting his palms on the table. ''Say that again,'' he warned him with pure fury in his eyes.

Brian seemed unbothered crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. ''Oh, so you've fucked up your hearing too. Your relationships and liver weren't enough?''


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the whirlwind of Shawn's mind and life. His friend attempts to help him, but with poor results.

Shawn sat on the edge of his unmade bed in his quiet Toronto condo. He bounced his legs anxiously while looking down at the phone in his hands, thinking whether to call Brian or not. It wasn't that what Shawn wanted to do, he couldn't do alone, because he had. More times than he could count. But he thought having a friend with him this time would make it less pathetic.

He dialled Brian's number and fell down, letting his back hit the bed.

''Shawn, what's up?'' Brian answered drowsily. After all, it was midnight. ''It's kinda late, don't you think?''

''More like the perfect time to head out.''

Shawn could feel the disapproval in the long sigh he received in response.

''Are you sure that's a good idea? You've been out a lot lately," Brian tried to reason.

Ignoring the question and the worried tone it was presented in, Shawn got up and began looking around the room for his shoes. His favourite pair of shoes he had lost somewhere in the bedroom the night before in the rush of hooking up with a girl he had met not much more than an hour earlier. 

Brian either came or didn't. Regardless, it wasn't going to change Shawn's plans on leaving the apartment within the next ten minutes.

''Oh, come on,'' Shawn groaned. ''We're guys in our early 20s. This is exactly what we're supposed to be doing. Just meet me at Cube in 20, alright?''

Before Brian had time to answer, Shawn hung up and threw his phone on the bed he'd most likely have someone laid on in a couple of hours. Someone to help him ease the loneliness he was trying to run away from. The noise of the dead silent apartment he felt going crazy in.

After a good while of searching — and a few sips of a beer bottle he found nudged on the floor — Shawn finally found what he had been looking for under his jeans of the previous night.

Throwbacks flashed through his mind of him getting rid of the boots, followed by the pants, just moments before he'd find himself between the sheets with a stranger of momentary relief.

With all the satisfaction of the fleeing night now having evaporated, Shawn sat back on the bed, tying his laces. Ready for another round. Another lap in the endless circle he was stuck in. And at the end of the night, that same pair of shoes would most likely be found beneath yet another pile of clothing — ready for him to look for again the next morning.

***

The second Shawn stepped out of the building he was met with a sea of flashing cameras. The brazen lights rendering him to near blindness as he walked towards the car parked in front, while his hand barely worked as a shield. 

''Mr Mendes. You still haven't spoken up about the Rolling Stones interview. Were they all real things you said?'' 

No. 

''Shawn, is it true you use drugs regularly? Do you think you're showing a good example for your younger fans?'' 

Double negative.

''Were you actually involved in a bar fight recently?'' 

No.

''Shawn, you've been photographed going out a lot lately and later coming home with a different girl every night. Is that going to be the case tonight also?'' 

Probably.

Trying to make his way through the mob of paparazzi, Shawn stumbled in his steps, his field of view indistinct for the flickering lights surrounding him. Tripping slightly forward he was caught by the arm by a man holding a camera.

''Woah, think you should cut down the drinking a little?''

Shawn's eyes narrowed murderously, and he yanked his arm from his grip before continuing his way towards the car he had called to pick him up. 

As he slammed the door shut, he let out a heavy sigh, wiping the drops of sweat off his forehead and closed his eyes. Even though it had frequently been happening, it was just as overwhelming every single time. Every time he felt his heartbeat increasing and his breathing hastening. Every time he felt the never-ending mass of paparazzi was more significant than the last time. Every time he felt like he couldn't face it not once more.

None of the claims he could actually sign. They were nothing more than rumours — stories only partly told — lies initiated from a misunderstanding. Eventually, everything got out of hand and blown out of proportion.

But he wasn't completely innocent. He did feed to it. Every night he'd go out and come back with a new female friend. He was past the point where he cared in what light he was portrayed in. What kind of photographs people took of him. Who he was seen with. 

Somewhere in the past six months, he had lost all his responsibility along with his dignity. He kept giving paparazzi reasons to continue the mobbing and prying. He kept his actions up even though he knew the reactions and controversy it was going to engender. He was tired and simply, he couldn't find it in him to care anymore.

Shawn leaned back and tried to steady his heart rate without success. His breathing progressively grew harder to the point he had to unbuckle the set belt strapped over his chest. With a tight chest, he rubbed his palms against his thighs to get rid of the cold sweat he had already gotten accustomed to.

Focusing on the sound of tires gliding against the asphalt and the soft roaring of the engine, he slowly gained his somewhat normal state of mind. It wasn't pleasant or even healthy, but it was a state he had learned to live in. A mindset he'd had to learn to survive in.

Shawn took his phone out of his pocket to go through his Twitter feed. One of the many things he knew he shouldn't do yet did it anyway.

He had always felt the need to see what people were saying about him, and through his career, they had been mostly good things — nothing too scandalous. But now when everything had taken a turn, he felt even greater need to be alert on what people were saying. 

_Shawn Mendes, another night another club._

_Shawn Mendes drowning a backlash of an interview gone wrong with a bottle in the other hand and an unknown blond in the other._

_Has the golden boy of the music industry gone out of the trail for good?_

_From break up to break down._

The list of headlines with his name was endless.

Shawn had had the easiest time during his teenage years and getting into the industry. Even though he never knew to expect it, it had always been just a matter of time when everything came crashing down. And the media knew to expect it. They had been counting down the days. Staying on their toes so they'd be ready to strike. A beast prowling for its prey.

Everyone has their breaking points. No one really knows how much one can take. How many times they can take the hit before admitting their defeat. How much you can hand them before it becomes too much to handle. How many stones you can throw until they break down. It's like a shadow you don't meet until it gets really dark.

And Shawn met his a year ago.

A year ago, he started to feel the pressure. The pressure of maintaining the image of a pop star who was unable to do anything wrong. Being the perfect role model. The burden of having to put out album after album. Go on tour after tour. Having people on your back around the clock, watching over your shoulder at your every move. The forcing need to please everyone. To put out music they'd approve.

Suddenly, everything he had once agreeably welcomed at the expense of being able to live his dream was now his primary source of stress and anxiety. It started in small doses. Something he could tackle by writing about it. Singing about it. Talking to his friends about it.

Until it indeed got a hold of him.

Not having gone through anything like it before, he didn't know how to. His emotions kept bottling up to the point he could spend days laying in his bed or on the bathroom floor. Isolating himself from the people around him, he soon found a new friend in alcohol. Not long after, he discovered the advantages of going out instead of staying in. 

The loud music helped him suffocate the thoughts in his head, and the people around him tricked his mind into thinking he wasn't as lonely as he emotionally was. Never did he leave without company he used to fill the emptiness of his echoing apartment. It was a coping mechanism he knew wasn't healthy, but the only way to get through the night.

He was only a shell of the man he used to be. Having lost his true self and everything he once was, his whole image had switched to the opposite of what it used to be. He found no joy in performing anymore, which caused a couple of terrible performances. He kept forgetting his lyrics while his vocal cords kept failing him like did his trembling fingers trying to pick the strings of his guitar. On top of beginning to lose fans, he lost scheduled appearances as well as events, it only pushing him deeper down the dark, bottomless chasm. 

It was a vicious circle he couldn't find any reason to try and get out of.

Tired of seeing his face or name on the cover of every tabloid, Shawn threw his phone to the empty seat beside him. His head fell back, and unintentionally his eyes closed, his body trying to catch up with his lack of sleep.

Having driven the distance between his apartment and the club enough times to know the duration, Shawn realized had fallen asleep for ten minutes when he felt the car park amid loud chatter of people lining in. It felt like the most sleep he had gotten in a week.

Shawn climbed off the car, and even though his head hung low, he managed to receive excited screams from a couple of girls in the line as he rushed in. Shawn was just as aware of their good chances of getting inside his bed that night as the girls were themselves. He was just too groggy to care yet.

Brian was sitting in a booth with faces Shawn recognized once he got a little closer.

''Called some company.'' Brian nodded at Shawn as a greet, being surrounded by mutual friends of the two. People among everyone else Shawn hadn't been keeping in touch lately.

After months of isolating himself, Brian was one of the few people still around. Partly that was for Shawn had given him a key to his condo years ago, then thinking it was a great idea. Now when Brian would barge in unannounced to check on him whenever Shawn had locked himself in, he regretted it deeply.

''Oh,'' Shawn said surprised. ''Good to... Yeah, good to see you all. It's been a while. A minute.'' His eyebrows frowned, and he glanced at Brian with a question mark on his face.

What Shawn didn't know was that Brian had called their friends for an intervention. It had been a long time coming yet horribly overdue. It had gone past the point where Shawn himself realized how bad it really had gotten. He no longer separated his current, toxic, way of living from a normal one. This was his norm.

Brian looked back at his friend approaching with disappointment. He noticed the faltering in his words. How his steps wobbled. The lack of sleep in his eyes. It had become a common sight but was nevertheless always as disheartening. His frequent attempts at getting some sense through Shawn's head continuously fell on deaf ears. It wasn't a problem for him — far from it. It was a solution.

''How've you been?'' Jon asked as Shawn sat down on a chair he pulled to the table.

Shawn snorted, the question sounding ridiculous to his ears. A simple, lighthearted, question you'd typically respond to with a simple, lighthearted answer. But to him, it packed away so much. Much more, you'd share with friends on a casual night out.

But noticing the others didn't find the joke in it and lacked the humorous expressions he had, Shawn realized it wasn't just a casual night out. He now saw the grave expressions on everyone's faces. Genuine concern and curiosity. _Pity_. It was the real answer they were waiting for, ready to offer their helping hands. Treat him with compassion. Look after him like he was a ten-year-old.

And that wasn't what Shawn had come there for. Brian had known it. He didn't want help. Brian had known it. He didn't need Brian calling more people around him for him to disappoint. Still, Brian had done it. 

He rolled his eyes. ''I'm _great.''_

Shawn got up and gazed at his friend with irritation. Brian felt his glare on him but didn't lift his ashamed eyes from the table, knowing he had been caught and it wasn't gratitude Shawn felt for him. Regardless of how good-hearted his intentions had been. 

''I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything or are babysitters allowed any?''

The men exchanged leery looks, unsure what to say, and looked at Brian for guidance. He wiped his forehead and sighed, ''Shawn, don't.''

He shrugged arrogantly. ''I'm just simply asking if anyone wants anything to drink.''

''Just shut up and sit down,'' Brian groaned impatiently.

''It's a club, Brian,'' Shawn hissed. ''That's what you come here to do.'' His voice was filled with venom, all of it directed straight to Brian. ''Or are you all here for something else, hm?''

Brian slouched back, shaking his head in defeat. There was no way through Shawn's head. And he was slowly accepting the fact that you'd be a complete fool for trying.

''Figured,'' Shawn chuckle humourlessly and walked away from the booth to head to the bar.

''Dude, come on!'' Brian yelled after him, but he was already long gone.

Bumping into shoulders and blurred faces, Shawn made his way through the sweaty crowd. He slumped down on a bar stool, lifting his finger at the bartender to gain his service.

''Can I get... anything. Doesn't matter, just give me something.''

He leaned against the bar with his elbows and dropped his head between his shoulders, letting it swing it from side to side. To his own surprise, Shawn's annoyance at Brian slowly subsided. At the same time, he grew furious at himself for being in a state that required someone to feel obligated to look after him in such a manner. That he had let himself go to the point, he even needed an intervention. That even after all he knew he had done wrong, he still cared so little about himself that when a pleasant voice sounded next to him, all the guilt he might've felt, vanished.

''Hey, you.''

Shawn tilted his head slightly to see where the voice came from. He saw a little brunette wearing way too much makeup twirling a lock of hair around her finger with the hem of her skirt way too high, and cleavage foolishly low. She was someone who might've never ever caught his eye under normal circumstances, but his judgement was clouded and head spinning.

So, he pondered his two options. He could go back to the booth for his friends to drown him with pointless sympathy or continue his evening with the girl able to distract him for the night from his mental chaos.

Shawn lifted his head and faced the brunette.

The choice was simple.

''Hi.''


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Shawn has forgotten something very crucial about the very near future. What caused Shawn's fall-out?

Shawn could feel the sunlight hit his face out of a little crack between his curtains but hadn't bothered to open his eyes just yet. An intolerable pounding ravaged in his head, and he could hear a sharp buzzing in his ears. 

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his face with both of his hands, trying to wake himself. Lazily, he sat up and threw his legs over the bed, the upward position causing instant lightheadedness. Shawn leaned against his knees and buried his face in his hands until the room stopped spinning. At this point, every morning was repeating itself. It had become a part of his mourningly routine to wake up in such pain and discomfort, in his darkness filled room. 

  
With goosebumps all over his skin from the loss of his warm bed, Shawn peered through the crack of the curtains, figuring it had to be noon already. His head ran empty with very little recollection of the previous night and even less remembrance of what today was supposed to contain.  
  
Slowly he got up and walked through the room to get to the bathroom on the opposite side. Halfway through with the corner of his eye, he saw a brunette—the brunette—prepping herself up while giving Shawn a sleepy, yet flirtatious smile. 

''You can let yourself out,'' Shawn coldly spoke without as much as looking at her.   
  
Fast and effective. 

A year ago, he would've felt like the devil kicking a girl out like that—he just couldn't find it in himself to do it. But that was when he was a better person and not the monster the magazines presently portrayed him as. And in time, he grew to believe them. The man he saw on the covers was now the man he saw in the mirror. And what's the point of acting a better person than you really are.

He walked straight under the shower and let the hot water bite against his shoulders and overpower the pain in his head. The prickly running of the water replaced the ringing in his ears, giving him a moment of peace. And peace was precisely what he dreaded. What he kept running away from, day after day. They were moments like this when the adrenaline of the night run out, and everything slowed down. His head had cleared from liquor, and he could feel all he'd spent the night suffocating. The loneliness crept around the corner. The fear rose from the shadows. The hopelessness filled his veins.

It made him desperate and ready to do anything to shut it down for even a little while. That was what had gotten him stuck in the vicious circle he was in.   
  
He stepped off the shower, threw a towel around his waist, and stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom to an empty bedroom. He cringed at the sight of the guilt stain covered bed sheet coming off the mattress, and the imprint of his guest still prominent. A reminder of the loathsome shell of a man he had become. He tore the sheet of the bed with fury and crumbled it into a ball, throwing it across the room. Panting, he stared at the pile with disgust before leaving the room and slamming the door shut.

Shawn tried to scan through the living room for his phone, but it turned out to be harder than one would think in the sea of empty bottles and glasses with an occasional pizza box on the coffee table or under the couch. He walked around, leaving wet footprints in his way until he found what he was looking for on the floor. The place where he usually found everything he had once lost.  
  
He slumped down on the couch and noticed the missed calls from Geoff, Brian, and the person that made his heart drop deepest, mom.  
  
It had been longer than a while since Shawn had heard his mother's voice. The main reason he avoided her calls was that he was seldom in the condition to speak with any family members. But the rare times he was, he couldn't find a way to explain to them the unflattering headlines he knew they had seen and were calling to ask about. He didn't know how he'd tell them how everything they saw was true. That he really was the letdown he seemed.  
  
But it was time he'd face it and get out of his hideout. So, he made the call.  
  
''Shawn,'' Karen spoke in a tone mixed with relief and worry.  
  
''Yes, hi. I didn't hear you call,'' Shawn lied with a faked, bright voice.  
  
''Did you only wake up now? It's 2 pm.''   
  
He took the phone off his ear and checked the time. She wasn't lying.

''No, of course not. I was just, you know, at the gym.''   
  
Shawn squinted his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, knowing he couldn't possibly have convinced anyone. Let alone his own mother. And when he didn't hear anything from the other end, he knew he hadn't only been caught, but Karen had to be shaking her head in disappointment.  
  
''Mom, you alright?'' Shawn asked to break the torturous silence.  
  
''Are you?''

Shawn's head hit the backrest of the couch heavily. The worry in Karen's voice was what he couldn't bear to hear.  
  
''And don't lie to me,'' she continued. ''Shawn, I've seen the magazines.''  
  
By hardly keeping any contact with his family, Shawn had only himself to blame for his mom relying on social media for information about his life. But letting her read about the uncertain truth sounded far better than having to talk about it and hear her heart break through the phone.  
  
''I'm okay, mom.''

''Shawn,'' she sighed. ''If you're not well—''

''Mom, really. I'm fine.''

''Fine enough for the start of the tour tomorrow?''

Shawn shot up, and his eyes widened. He ran to the kitchen and pulled his calendar from a drawer. Vigorously, he flipped through the pages to the current date, the word TOUR in all capitals written on it. 

''Fuck,'' Shawn silently mouthed, brushing his hand over his face.

''You know how draining it can get and if you're not in the right state of mind...''

''Mom, I have to go.''

''Is everything alright?''

''Yes, everything's just excellent.'' Shawn slumped against the counter and hit his head against it a few times. ''I just... I need to finish packing and all.''

''Alright, then. And you're sure you can handle it?''

''I always do, don't I?''

She sighed. ''Just know you can always come back home. You don't have to torture yourself.''

''I know, I know,'' Shawn spoke in a hurry. ''But I really need to go now.'' 

Karen quietly spoke. ''I love you.''

''Love you too.'' Shawn ended the call and slammed the drawer shut. ''Fuck!''.

Then his phone rang, blinking Andrew's name.

After a composure-collecting, deep breath, he answered. ''Yea?''

''It's Andrew.''

Shawn rolled his eyes. ''Is it really?''

''Still haven't got rid of the attitude, I see.''

''And you called because?''

''We have a tour to kick off tomorrow. Have you forgotten?''

''How could I?''

''Still feeling good about it?''

''Exctatic.''

''I'm serious, Shawn. We're not doing this if—''

''We're doing it, alright?''

He wasn't going to cancel. If he did that now, there would be no more of Shawn Mendes, the pop sensation. Ever. He'd fall too deep for anyone to pull him back up again. That would be it. This was his chance of redemption. His only hope.  
  
''I'll see you tomorrow then. 8 am, don't be late.''

''Wouldn't dream of it.''

Shawn hung up the phone and searched through the cabinets for painkillers to ease the throbbing in his head. He threw a pill he found in his mouth and grabbed the nearest glass filled with what looked like water but didn't smell like it. He coughed a few times shaking his head while the drink burned its way down his throat.

Then, like a stab in his brains, the phone went off again.

''You've got to be kidding me,'' he groaned and brought the phone to his ear. ''What now?''

''Good morning, sunshine,'' Geoff cheerily spoke. 

His tone hadn't always been full of such glee whenever knowingly calling Shawn after a night out on the town. He'd go off for what felt like hours to Shawn about how irresponsible and senseless he had yet again acted. About the consequences. But in time, as the pattern repeated itself, Geoff lost the energy to get mad at him anymore.

''What do you want?''

''Just calling to check in you haven't forgotten about tomorrow.''

''Why the hell does everyone assume that?'' 

''Yeah, why on earth,'' Geoff sarcastically snorted. 

''Just for your information, I'm already packed up and ready to go.''   
  
''You're hilarious. Be ready in 30.''

''Why?''

''We're going to go eat. I lunch, you, well, breakfast.''

''No way. I'm not—''

''See you in half an hour!'' 

Geoff hung up.  
  
Shawn dropped his phone on the counter, the mention of food enough to trigger his gag reflex. Dragging himself to the bedroom, he picked the nearest pieces of clothing and forced them on. In exactly thirty minutes, Geoff would be downstairs, refusing to leave before Shawn would step out of the building with him. His determination was admirable yet beyond infuriating.  
  
***  
  
''You know you look like shit, right?'' Geoff asked with his mouth full, sitting across from Shawn at Tim Hortons.   
  
Unable to see it under his black sunglasses, Shawn was shooting daggers at Geoff. As the walk to the cafe had been torturous enough under the bright blue sky with the sun burning Shawn's eyes, he now had to watch Geoff stuff his mouth with food that nearly had Shawn pass out from revulsion.  
  
''And you are disgusting,'' he said while struggling to keep himself from throwing up.  
  
Shawn couldn't put a single bite into his mouth himself, so he just sat low in his chair, arms crossed, dying for the lunch date to be over.  
  
''Well, you clearly haven't looked in a mirror then. Looks like you've been wearing that shirt for a week.''   
  
Shawn was rolling his eyes and avoiding the sight of Geoff, looking around the cafe only a block away from his condo. It used to be a place he frequently visited, and he used to have all the workers' names remembered. Now, he barely recognized their faces.  
  
''In all seriousness, man. Are you okay? I barely hear from you anymore.'' Geoff pushed his dish to the side. ''And when I do, it's you calling me to come and pick you up from some shitty bar you've got lost in.''   
  
Shawn snorted, ''Are you seriously asking that?'' He leaned in, placing his elbows on the table. ''It's because of all of you that I got deeper into this shit in the first place.''  
  
''We're not the reason you—''  
  
''It was you who convinced me to do the damn interview!'' Shawn raised his voice, grabbing the edge of the table. 

''Oh, so you sitting at home watching her butcher your career would've been better?'' Geoff scoffed. 

''Do not talk about her to me,'' Shawn spoke, his voice low and hostile.  
  
There was a lot more than just the pressure of growing up and out of the perfect teenage bubble that sucked Shawn into the spiral. Her name was Holly. 

His anxiety mixed with a selfish, narcissistic witch resulted in his doom. For six months, Shawn watched her care more about her career and reputation than his well-being. Her only concern consisted of how his downfall was going to reflect on her career. How people seeing Shawn in such a miserable state would affect the way they saw her. 

The relationship wasn't happy on neither side, and a break-up was long overdue. But for Holly's fear of a break-up putting her in a bad light, she mastered a way into Shawn's head, and the art of pulling strings she had him trapped in just the right way. A lot of tears, self-victimizing, and screaming went into saving the relationship from Shawn's many attempts to end it.

''I was perfectly fine letting her run her mouth all over town after the break-up, but you just couldn't let me be.''

One crucial night Shawn decided he'd had enough. Maintaining a relationship was not something he could do any longer. Not when above the feelings, he had lost his sanity.

As expected, the fallout wasn't pretty. Needy for attention and sympathy, Holly began spreading false accusations and lies to the media, one of which accused Shawn of cheating. The story blew up and started the biggest scandal since Tristian Thompson and Jordyn Woods. There were moments in his post-break-up behavior he wasn't too proud of. Not more than two days after the split, he was caught in bed with another woman, unfortunately by Holly. But, as vile as the act had been, cheating he never perpetrated.

Despite her mistreating and his lack of zest for life, Shawn always tried to put Holly's comfort before his own. He made sure to ask about her day, even though he'd spend his drowning in misery. After Holly's long day at work, he'd cook dinner for her, even though he hadn't had the strength to get out of bed all day. Whenever he'd feel like cracking another bottle, he'd think twice about the burden he'd be for her and put it back in the cabin.

He never treated her with nothing but as much considerateness as possible in his frame of mind. And when it was over, she was hurt — she had every right to be. However, while she was hurt when it ended, Shawn was in pain throughout the relationship. And someone who doesn't ease that pain isn't worth holding onto.

''Oh come on,'' Geoff snorted. ''You know just as well as I do that you keeping a low profile was only making everything worse.''

Shawn never publicly addressed the rumors. He had no energy to fight her—no care to redeem himself. He kept under the radar in hopes for the dust to settle, but she was far too convincing for people to forget and move on.   
  
Pressured by his manager and friends, he eventually tried to reclaim himself in an interview with the Rolling Stones. But for he hadn't been active with appearances or the media for so long, he was not in a proper condition to give an interview. He tried to keep it honest and raw for people to see him as just a man bound to make mistakes, but he expressed himself horribly.

Once the magazine came out, his mentions of feeling anxious and overwhelmed with unhealthy habits were twisted into him being a battling alcoholic and a sex-addict. All of his words were taken out of context, and the light they showed him in only fed the fire he had tried to put out.  
  
Shawn laughed out loud, hauntingly empty. ''Not a chance in hell it could've been worse than the outcome of the interview.''

''It's not our fault they twisted everything!'' Geoff defended. ''You're just overreacting.''  
  
''Overreacting?'' Shawn roared, astonished. ''Have you seen the shit written about me?''   
  
Geoff hastily looked around the cafe, noticing the judgemental looks they were drawing with the shouting. Shawn noticed, but he couldn't have been bothered. He was used to the disapproving eyes, so his remained on Geoff.   
  
''I'm a fucking joke,'' Shawn spoke with a shrug, accepting his self-inflicted faith.  
  
''Everything will blow off in time. If you'd just stop doing more stupid shit and at least try to get back on track.''  
  
As irritating as it was, Shawn knew his friend was right. But when it came to choosing between dwelling at home and read the shit people talked about him or going about his new routines and set his mind free for a second, he chose the latter. He couldn't let go of the short moments he was able to distract himself from the battle he was tired of fighting. He was addicted to the relief. 

While sitting in silence, one by one, Shawn noticed the front of the cafe being filled with people with cameras and notepads. Knowing exactly what was happening, he looked around, trying to detect who had been the one to leak his location. He saw a young girl, maybe fifteen years of age, sitting across the cafe hiding behind her iPhone covered with a phone case he recognized as his old merch. 

He let out a huff of air as a small, sad smile. How he still had fans, he hadn't quite figured out. But whenever he saw one, he couldn't help but feel guilty for how he knew he had let them down. How he wished he could apologize for each and every one individually. Swear he'd get better. Promise he'd be himself again.

But as he heard the faint hollers of his name outside, he lost all hope again. His shoulders tensed, and jaw clenched as he grabbed his hat from the table and placed it deep in his head. 

''Yeah, that's a beautiful idea,'' Shawn spoke to Geoff. ''But it's not happening.''  
  
He could feel drops of perspiration already forming at the sweatband of his hat as he stood up, about to face the predators outside. With hands inside his jacket pockets, he stormed out, pushing the door open with his side and staring at the ground to avoid pictures of the circles below his bloodshot eyes.   
  
Geoff placed a hand on his forehead and leaned against the table, closing his eyes in annoyance and frustration. Getting his friends back on track would be a lot harder than expected. But he wasn't going to give up. Shawn wasn't a lost cause. All he needed was the right person to tie him back together from the seams he was torn from. Remind him of happiness. Show there was peace out there for him.   



End file.
